Young Minneapolis
Women (and Men) Feeling Uncomfortable in their own Skins

On
Martin Luther King Jr. Day, 2014, twenty-one Twin Cities students participated
in a ThreeSixty multimedia project centered on microaggression - or
as defined by Columbia University psychologist Derald Wing Sue, “the
daily verbal behavioral or environmental indignities, whether intentional
or unintentional, that communicate hostile or negative racial slights
toward people of color.” Inspired by a Fordham University photo
project, Three Sixty asked its students to write down a microaggression
they’ve experienced.

(A)
Deborah Honore, a young black woman, carries a sign which reads: “Why
do you talk so white? Stop using big words. Be a Real Nigg*.”

She
writes: “I’m
so confused. I don’t understand why my skin
tone correlates to my intelligence. Like, it baffles me. I just thought
we could be over this, and we’re not. We can be so much better than
this.”

She
writes: It hurts that they judge me by what I look like rather than
the things that
I do. I am one of the people in the Native community
that actually
appreciates being Native.”

(C)
Aamino Hirmoge, a young Muslim woman, carries a sign which reads: “Aamino
thinks she’s white because she listens to CRACKERHEAD WHITE
SH*T!”

She
writes: “I know what race I am. I look in the
mirror every day. I identify as a black person. And you’re
telling me that because of the music I’m listening to, that
I think I‘m white? No. That’s
not how it works.”

Victoria
Turcios, a young Hispanic woman, carries a sign which reads: “you’re
Hispanic? Do you speak Mexican?”

She
writes: “Mexican
isn’t a language. It’s where you come
from, an origin. Spanish is a language. People all over Latin
America speak it, but that doesn’t justify people saying
those kinds of things.”

(E)
Kimberly Martinez, a young Hispanic woman, carries a sign which reads: “We
were watching a video about illegal immigrants today and
I was thinking about you.”

She
writes: “You can’t
just assume that everyone is an illegal immigrant or that it’s
a bad thing. Because sometimes students that are illegal immigrants,
it wasn’t their choice ... and their parents brought
them here.”

She
writes: “I’m just tired
of explaining myself - who I am, what I do, and what
my culture is. It makes me feel like they can’t
tell me (apart) from different races. I feel like I
am the same as everybody, and I am
not. I am one of a kind. Hmong.”

She
writes: It makes me feel pissed off, because I like being black. And
I don’t
like it when people try to degrade or put down other
people that look like me based on how a small group
of people act that look like me.”

(H)
Madie Ley, a young white woman, carries a sign which reads: “You
have no ethnicity. You’re just white.”

She
writes: “It
makes me feel like I can’t have a sense of uniqueness
or that I can’t be different. That’s
just because I’m white,
I’m this generic blank slate. I can’t
have an opinion. I can’t
support ... or empathize.”

(I)
Mina Yuan, a young Asian woman, carries a sign which reads: “The
ELS class is over there, OK?” (ELS is English as
a Second Language.)

She
writes: “The teacher
(who made the comment) was basically assuming
that we were immigrants and that we don’t
speak English, even though we do because we
were all born here ... She was treating us
as if we were less than
she was.”

(J)
Riley Davis, a young black woman, carries a sign which reads: “You’re
the Whitest person I know!”

She
writes: “I
makes me feel like my status as a black person
is invalid - because I don’t fit a
stereotype. That I don’t get to identify
myself as being black because I don’t
fit ... the requirements of being black.”

(K)
Freddy McConnell, a young black man, carries a sign which reads: “Don’t
you play basketball?”

He
writes: “Not
every tall, black, physically fit guy
plays basketball.
Maybe I want to do
theatre and be
an actor and not
play basketball.”

(L)
Shay Radhakrishman, a young Asian woman, carries a sign which reads: “Hey,
can you help me with my computer?”

She
writes: “It’s just irritating
to me, because they assume I know everything
about computers just because I’m
Indian and I’m
suddenly tech support.”

(M)
Andi Nadya Amanda,
a young Muslim woman, carries a sign which reads: “Do you
have hair?”

She
writes: “Everybody who (meets) me for
the first time, they say ... ‘Oh
no, I thought you’re bald.’ And
then I say, ‘ So, does
it matter if I’m bald or
not? I’m still human and
I’m a girl.’ Because
in my religion, they say, ‘Cover
anything that you think is beautiful.’”

(N)
Ingrid Sabah, a young black woman, carries a sign which reads: “You’re
kinda like an oreo. You look
black but you act white.”

She
writes: “It’s not OK
because ... they’re trying to put
me in their little boxes. Like,
I am not as urban or as hip-hop ... or I dress a certain way and shop
at a certain place, and they’re just like, ‘Oh,
you’re not like the rest
of them.’”

(O)
Sagal Abdiraliman, a young Muslim woman, carries a sign
which reads: “Why
does your religion force
you to wear that thing? NO
ONE
FORCED ME.”

She
writes: “I
don’t mind people being
curious, because I like when
people ask me questions about
what I wear or where I am
from. Anybody can ask me
why I wear a hijab, but ...
a lot of times it comes off
as rude, but they
just don’t realize
it.”

(P) Darwesh
Singh, a young man who wears a turban, carries
a sign which reads: “What
do you have under there?”

He
writes: “It happens
anywhere, regardless of
the situation. Sometimes
... I don’t even
see them there, and I just
hear a question [shouted
out] like, ‘What
do you have under there?’”

(Q) Danielle
Wong, a young Asian woman, carries a
sign which
reads: “LOOK!
I BEAT the ASIAN.”

She
writes: “It (can
be) kind of flattering
that they assume I always
reach for the stars,
but then again, it also
makes the Chinese person
or Asian person
feel like they need to please, and that is not OK.”

(R) Baou
Lee, a young Asian woman, carries a sign which reads: “Act
more like a lady.
Be a woman put back into
your
place.”

She
writes: “ I
would always get
this said to me because
I wouldn’t
be in the kitchen
helping the other
ladies serve the
guys ... I don’t
really need to do
this because I don’t
feel obligated. I
don’t
even know you.”

(S) Alayna
Xiong, a young Asian woman, carries
a sign which
reads: “KONICHIWA,
aren’t you
Japanese?”

She
writes: “Just
because I have
smaller eyes or
I have yellowish
skin or black hair,
that doesn’t
make me Japanese.
Why do you have
to think
that all
Asians are
Japanese, Chinese,
or Korean?
I mean, there are
more than that.”

Comments:
These identity statements
come from
the February-March
2014 issue
of “ThreeSixty”,
Minnesota teens
report stories and issues that matter. This issue features “race
in Minnesota”.
Most of the
participants
in this discussion
were minority
females. No
white males
participated.
From the perspective
of an older
white man,
it seemed that
the white race
was being perceived
negatively.
Many of the
participants
seemed to have
chips on their
shoulder with
respect to
other people’s
stereotyped
perceptions
of them. They
seemed uncomfortable
in
their own skins.
It was
unclear if
the participants
had these
attitudes all
or muct of
the time or
if
it was something
they
were
expected to
say on Martin
Luther
King day.

One
of the
more interesting
statements
came from
Brianna
Skildum, a half-white native
American student
at
Roosevelt
high school in south
Minneapolis.
Her article
was titled: “You’re
only pretending.” It
read:

“
If you’ve every moved away from your childhood home, you might know what
it’s
like
to see
a familiar
place
yet
feel
like
you no
longer
belong.

For
instance,
you
might walk
past
the
house you grew
up
in and
see
new
people living
in
it, or
notice
that
the
wallpaper from
your
bedroom
has
been
torn
off
and replaced
with
beige
paint.

As
a
Native American,
I
feel alien
in
my
own
land.
Some
of
my
peers,
along
with
adults
who
I’ve
just
me,
make
me
feel
like
I
don’t
belong.
I’m
sure
it’s
the
same
for
other
people
and
races,
but
I
feel
like
this
all
the
time.

I
am a
native American.
Native to
this country.
My father
is as
close to
being a
full-blooded Ojibwe
Native as
you get
in his
generation, and
I consider
myself Native
because of
the way
we carry
out our
daily lives.
We respect
the music,
dance and
food. We
follow the
same rituals
of our
ancestors. Whether
attending powwows,
dancing, singing,
smudging (cleansing
one;s body
with smoke
from sage)
or going
to lodge,
we pride
ourselves on
being very
traditional. Yet
I’m
always asking
myself why
I feel
like I
don’t
belong. Why
I feel
so different.

I
don’t fit in with the typical “white girl” group.
My skin isn’t light enough. I‘m not a blonde cheerleader-type
and I don’t
use the same off-putting
slang as my
peers.
But
I also
don’t fit in with the “true Native” group
since my skin and hair are too light for them. Because appearance
is so important,
I always feel compelled to hide my face or tell Natives I meet
for the first time that, yes, I am one of them. That way, they
don’t
get the chance
to decide for
themselves.

So
what am
I?

Both
sides tell
me that
I don’t belong and I should stick with “the
other side.” Yet I’m also not allowed to call
myself Native or white since I don’t fully fit
the general “being” of
either title.

When
they look
at me,
they say
that I
am something
other than
what I
am. Why
can’t
I just be?

It’s
all confusing to me. How should I act when walking to my job on Lake
Street in Minneapolis? I feel eyes on
me, judging “She’s white.” “She’s
not white.” How should I speak when I’m at school? “She
only calls herself Native to get attention.” “She
doesn’t
use ‘Rez
English.’ She’s
not one of us.”

How
should I
respond to
my peers? “She just wants to be better than us,
which she isn’t She’s
just white like the
rest of us.”

I
remember an
incident from
fourth grade
during show
and tell
when I
decided to
highlight my
moccasins, which
were very
important to
me. When
it was
my turn
to share,
I put
them on,
played Native
music, and
proudly began
to dance.
But after
I started,
another girl
in my
class began
mocking the
music. The
teacher repeatedly
asked her
to stop,
but she
replied, “What? I’m
only pretending, like she
is.”

I
hated it
so much.
She thought
I was “just pretending” to
be Native.

It
works the
other way,
too. My
dad always
talks about
how the
Native community
is accepting
of others
but hard
on its
own. Though
elders say
that he
is true
Native, the
majority of
his peers
criticize the
way he
speaks, what
he does
for a
living and
judges the
fact that
he married
my mother,
who is
white. He’s “American” -
or at least is trying
too hard to be.

Yet
our family
accepts and
follows Native
traditions.
We
smudge. We
go to
lodge. We
pray to
the creator.

But
those traditions
aren’t
enough. We are
still outcasts because
of ethnic factors
beyond our
control.

There
shouldn’t be one defining
characteristic of a mixed race
teen. Why can’t
we all just be
who we are
and say what we
want to be? Why
do we have
to fit neatly
in the same group
as determined by someone
else?

Especially
with
our
generation,
since
interracial
marriage
is only
going
to
increase.
Pretty
soon there
won’t
be a person alive who
belongs to
a singular race.

So
let’s stop
trying to force everyone into one.”

Source:
ThreeSixty ThreeSixty Journalism is a youth journalism program of the
College of Arts
and Sciences at St. Thomas University in St. Paul, Minnesota.